


If anyone asks, just say it was the sugar-high

by ElianB



Series: What feels right [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: ...this is sounding a lot sadder than I wanted this fic to be. oops, A little bit of gradual integration into a new home as an underlying theme, Beginnings of what may constitute fear of abandonment, Bonding, Bruce Wayne is a Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Halloween, Light allusions to Dick still mourning his parents, Not exceptionally good in this fic but definitely not bad either, Parent-Child Relationship, but what can otherwise just be considered loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElianB/pseuds/ElianB
Summary: Dick's first Halloween at the manor, he stays in. His second, he goes out with friends. His third, he makes fun of Bruce.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading the previous fic will provide some extra context (mostly relevant to the 3rd chapter), but I don't think it's necessary if you don't want to. All you really need to know is that Bruce is teaching Dick how to fight, but he won't have actually agreed to letting Dick go out as Robin until the 3rd chapter. Aside from that, I initially wanted to post this whole fic as a one-shot, but the breaks between sections weren't going to work that way; felt too awkward. So you'll be getting a short, 3 chapter fic instead. Unfortunately, the title suits this chapter the least (since it's, like, the sad chapter), but I think it can be stretched to it you try hard enough.

Dick didn’t celebrate his first Halloween at the manor.

Bruce had asked him if he’d wanted to, but Dick had vehemently refused. It hadn’t even been a full year since…

And he just really hadn’t been in the mood for going out on a house-hopping candy-hunt.

Not when he didn’t feel like he could actually work-up the energy required.

Not when he’d spent last Halloween, like all the others before it, with his parents, traipsing around a nearby residential area in the city the circus had been stopped at. Wearing a costume they had made him. Nestled safely between their bodies and holding their hands and squeezing them especially tight when they walked up to the extra creepy houses, his mother telling him how brave he was and his father agreeing as he knocked on the doors and held out Dick’s candy bag for him.

Not when he knew he wouldn’t get to take part in his usual after-trick-or-treating tradition of trading candy with the other kids at the circus, rather quickly dissolving into all of them chasing each other around as they worked off their sugar-highs.

Not when he couldn’t end the evening, happy and tired, by getting tucked into bed by his parents with kisses pressed to his forehead and cheek.

Bruce hadn’t pressed the matter after Dick had told him that he didn’t want to go out, just nodded and said he’d let Alfred know that he’d be staying in. Dick had appreciated it.

The day had been pretty normal.

Bruce had let him stay home from school – with the proviso that this sort of thing was an exception, not the norm.

If Dick had been in a better mood he might have complained about that – more grumbling about how dumb the school system was and how he wished Bruce would just homeschool him like he’d done over the summer, making sure Dick’s knowledge was up to the private school’s standards – but, as it was, Dick didn’t give much more than a nose wrinkle of displeasure and an, “Okay.”

Bruce had given him a bit of a funny look at that and, after a moment of hesitation, had patted him on the shoulder, saying, “…Good,” before heading off for work.

And with that, Dick had been left, under Alfred’s supervision, to just go about his business – the same as any other time Bruce got busy.

He’d whittled away most of the day with personal research, flipping through some books that Bruce had been getting at his request, all of them meant to flesh out topics that Dick wanted to learn more about. Some of the books were intended for kids his age, simple and short with a lot of picture, but a few were clearly meant for older people, long and dense with jargon that required Dick to have a dictionary handy. Those ones were much more time consuming and Dick hadn’t even gotten a quarter of the way through a single one of them, but he also figured they’d be more worth it in the long run.

Lately – ever since Bruce had taken him in, really – Dick had been _very_ into criminology.

He was mostly focused on reading and notetaking, only surfacing a couple times and getting up to stretch, when Alfred came by with lunch. Dick didn’t notice him right away, Alfred actually having to pull at the book he was reading just a bit to break Dick’s concentration, his eyes shooting up to see Alfred’s faintly amused expression.

“I see you’ve been working rather hard Master Dick,” Alfred said, surveying the self-imposed workload Dick had spread out in front of him. “I think it’s about time for a break.”

“Uh,” Dick’s eyes zeroed in on the food, soup and a sandwich, “yeah, sure. Thanks, Alfred, let me just…” He shoved everything in front of him to the far end of the table, Alfred placing the platter down in front of him, and got up to go on a brief hunt for the remote.

“Did you need anything else, Master Dick?” Alfred asked.

Dick, paused, the remote in-hand, biting down on his bottom lip. He considered asking Alfred to stick around and keep him company, but, honestly, Alfred was probably busy with other things and he didn’t want to be a bother so… He shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay. I’m just going to be watching cartoons.”

Alfred stared at him for a beat, as if waiting for Dick to change his mind, then nodded. “Very well. If you need me, I’ll be sorting out the parlor. It seems to have fallen victim to some of the guests Master Bruce was hosting last night.”

Dick raised his eyebrows. “Really? What happened?”

He knew that Bruce had been hosting a costume party – one that he hadn’t been allowed to attend, and had been rather easily convinced that he wouldn’t enjoy, on account of Bruce still being rather adamant about sparing him the attention of nosey socialites and prying reporters, both of whom had little sense of their own rudeness – but he hadn’t realized it’d gotten out of hand.

Alfred sighed. “The décor seems to have been moved around and there are a few other messes that need my attention, but it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Master Dick.”

“You sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“Okay. Thanks, again, Alfred.”

“Of course.”

As Alfred slipped out of the room, Dick walked back over to his spot, getting comfortable and flicking the television on.

All-in-all, he could have almost forgotten that it was Halloween in the first place, if it weren’t for the frankly ridiculous number of channels playing scary movies. He quickly skipped over those, the very thought of watching them on his own in a place as large as the manor with all of its rooms and ominous creeks, making him shudder.

On the other hand, the impression that it could have been any other day was helped by the fact that the manor was so separate from the rest of the city; a large, gated yard and a long driveway keeping the chatter and sight of all the other kids out and running around from reaching Dick. Keeping him from seeing what he was missing out on.

After eating, he gathered up his dishes and stealthily took them to the kitchen. Dick knew from experience that if Alfred heard so much as a clink he’d surface from the depths of the parlor and sweep the dishes right out of Dick’s hands. Alfred was adamant about him not doing any of the chores, with the exception of keeping his room tidy, but Dick figured the least he could do was drop some dishes off at the sink, especially if Alfred was busy with other things.

Setting the dishes on the counter near the sink, Dick hesitated before hoisted himself up beside them – still too short to reach the sink’s handles from the floor without straining up onto his tiptoes – so he could rinse them off. When he finished, he got a hot, soapy washcloth and wiped down the area he’d been sitting on.

He then wrung the washcloth out in the sink and on his way out of the kitchen he grabbed a couple cookies from a platter near the oven – freshly frosted ghosts and pumpkins – and headed for the backyard, a restless itch having set in while he’d been watching tv. He made sure to drop the washcloth off in the laundry room on his way there.

Bruce had had a small playground installed, meant to be a safer option than the gymnastics equipment in the Batcave which Bruce didn’t want him using without supervision, and that was where he was a few hours later when Bruce got home. Dick was hanging from the monkey bars, his nose numb and sniffly from the chilly air and his fingers a bit stiff.

He waved to Bruce and dropped down to the ground as Bruce called out, “Shouldn’t you have a coat?”

Dick glanced down at his sweater. Aside from his extremities, he was actually a bit warm. “No?” he replied, jogging over to Bruce. “I’m fine.”

Bruce sighed. “Fine all the way up until you get sick, sure. Have you seen how red your nose is?”

Dick reached up to touch his nose self-consciously. “I’m really not that cold.”

Bruce looked unconvinced, but dropped the matter, unbuttoning his own coat and pulling a bag of candy from its recesses. He held it out to Dick, who eyed it with delighted interest.

“That’s for me?” he asked.

“I know you didn’t want to go out, but I thought you might still want some candy.” He held it out in offering.

Dick took it from him, smiling widely.

“Just… try not to eat it all in one night. And _don’t_ let Alfred see it.” Bruce actually looked a bit nervous at the prospect.

“Gotcha!” Dick shot him a thumbs up. “_Super_ illegal candy stash. Thanks, Bruce!”

Bruce hummed. “Alfred was almost finished with dinner. And you should probably come in, anyway, before your nose falls off.” He tapped Dick’s nose for emphasis, making Dick’s face scrunch up, and laughed lightly.

“My nose is _not_ going to fall off,” Dick grumbled, hugging the candy bag to his chest. “It’s probably not even that red and you’re just exaggerating.”

“No, no,” Bruce insisted, placing a hand on Dick’s back and beginning to guide him towards the house. “I really am very concerned. Nose-loss is a _very_ serious thing.”

Dick rolled his eyes, not dignifying Bruce with a response.

Bruce, in turn, started laughing again, a bit harder this time, moving his arm to wrap it around Dick’s shoulders, pulling Dick into his side. “I was thinking we could wrap up this afternoon’s training earlier than usual so we could watch a movie or do something else before I headed out for the night. If you wanted to.”

Dick looked up at him, a little surprised, honestly, having figured Bruce would have wanted to go out on patrol earlier on a night like tonight. Dick kind of feeling like he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. He smiled instead. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The candy bag was stuffed into Dick’s shirt and snuck into the main living area. His books and notebook were still in a pile on the far end of the table and the platter of cookies had appeared near it.

Dick shoved the candy bag between the cushion and armrest of the couch, leaving it not immediately visible but still accessible for later. He then grabbed another cookie and made his way to the dining room, inhaling it as he went.

Dinner passed pleasantly, though Alfred _also_ felt the need to mention how red Dick’s nose was, making him sink down in his chair and, eventually, wrangling an agreement out of him to wear a coat and gloves in the future if he was going to be outside for an extended length of time.

Bruce rather pointedly stayed out of that conversation, though, Dick noticed with displeasure, he certainly seemed smug about it.

And if Dick was more determined than usual to absolutely obliterate Bruce while they were sparring… Well, that may have had something to do with it. He didn’t actually win any of their fights, but Bruce still smiled at him and told him he was getting better, just like he always did.

By the time Dick had showered and gotten into a pair of pajamas, Bruce was already sitting in the living area, the television on with a Halloween special playing. Dick shuffled past him, getting situated and ripping open his bag of candy. Bruce offered him the remote, but there wasn’t anything in particular that Dick wanted to watch so he just left the channel where it was.

The clock in the back of the room was ticking, audible each time there was a lapse in Dick’s chatter.

One Halloween special merged into the next and the candy wrappers piled up and the cookies Alfred had made slowly diminished and that clock in the back of the room ticked away one hour and then another.

When Bruce rose from the couch, glancing down at his watch and saying, “I should head out. Are you going to be okay?” Dick still felt wide awake.

He pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Yeah,” he replied, trying to stifle the low thrum of disappointment in his stomach. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Bruce to go out as Batman – he just – well, he’d rather at least be allowed to go with. “I’ll probably stay up for a little longer, I guess.”

“Alright. Alfred will come get you for bed around ten if you haven’t gone up already.” He surveyed the mess of candy wrappers on the table in front of them. “And I think you should put the candy away for the evening. You’ll give yourself a stomachache.”

Dick pressed a hand to his stomach. He wasn’t really in the mood for more candy anyway. “Alright, I will. Night, Bruce.”

Bruce hesitated, hovering for a moment, before reaching out and petting Dick’s hair. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Bruce left, Dick pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees.

The movie that was still airing didn’t really hold his attention, but he watched it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note: I’ve been planning to write Dick as part Romani since I first started writing about him because I’ve heard he was retconned into being part Romani and even though I also heard it was done very poorly I didn’t want to just… take that away from him. To the extent that I can, I’m trying to learn about Romani customs so I can work them into his character.
> 
> Also, even though I’m making a genuine effort to portray him as being influenced by this heritage, I wanted to give the disclaimer that I don't have in-depth knowledge about these customs or how they vary from place to place. I'm using all the resources I can manage to find but even still my understanding is probably surface level at best. Plus, my intention is more to include influences of this heritage rather than to write Dick as being completely Romani since he just... isn't. I definitely think the customs that have been passed down to him would be important to him, but since the parent who he gets this heritage from is half-Romani and his other parent is presumably a white American I think it’s fair to assume he’s acquired a mix of customs. Especially since he was living with his parents in a circus rather than among other Romani people, so his access to that culture was limited and then he was taken in by Bruce as a young child, further exposing him to other social influences. So. I hope I manage to handle this well, but I also... want to temper expectations.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this one might feel a little all over the place but boy do I not know how to fix that. I did try my best to make it run together smoothly though! Also... I have to confess... it's filler to make for a better transition between chapter 1 and chapter 3.

Dick _did_ celebrate his second Halloween at the manor.

For starters, he was actually allowed to attend the pre-Halloween costume party Bruce was hosting. At least, for the first half hour or so, anyway, before he was being swept off to bed.

He went dressed as Superman – partially because Superman was his _favorite_ but also because Bruce was trying to be stubborn about taking Dick’s training further and Dick had wanted to be petty by rubbing his favoritism for another hero in Bruce’s face.

He’d colluded with Alfred to get the costume made, but, unfortunately, Bruce didn’t seem to take it as the slight that it had been intended to be; instead just patting Dick on his head – ruffling his painstakingly styled hair as he did so – and telling him he looked very heroic.

In the hour leading up to party, Dick started digging into the party favors, surreptitiously sneaking away with bite-sized brownies and pieces of cake. He was licking some frosting off of his fingers at the top of the staircase when he spotted Bruce passing by.

In a moment of inspiration, Dick decided that if he was going to dress up as Superman, he ought to really sell it and, with a “Hey, Bruce! Catch me!” Dick took a running leap from the second-floor landing.

Bruce’s confused “What?” was immediately followed by a distressed, “_No_!” and a frightened expression taking over his face as Dick came hurtling towards him. It would have been really funny and totally worth teasing Bruce about later, if it weren’t for the scolding Dick received immediately after impact, Bruce refusing to release him from his arms until he was well and finished.

For some reason, Bruce just couldn’t understand why wearing the Superman suit was a perfectly legitimate reason for Dick to have launched himself into flight and Dick’s reassurance that he could have stuck the landing even if Bruce hadn’t caught him didn’t do much to help his case. To make the whole matter worse, Bruce also told him that he was being cut off from the snack table, a feat enforced by Alfred’s vigilance.

The party itself, or what Dick got to see of it anyway, was honestly kind of boring. The costumes were cool and all, but there wasn’t really anyone else around his age there and a bunch of the adults wanted to crowd around him, complimenting his costume or trying to pinch his cheeks – the latter of which he eventually went to hide behind Bruce to avoid. It was about ten minutes in that Dick became pretty sure the only reason Bruce had had him come down at all was so he’d have an excuse to duck out early when it was time to send Dick off to bed.

As the two of them headed up the stairs, Bruce holding his hand, and throwing an assurance over his shoulder to nearby guests that he’d be back soon, Dick even accused him of it, whispering, “I can’t believe you’re using me for my early bedtime.”

Bruce glanced down at him. “And why ever would I be doing that?”

“Because all your rich friends are-,” Dick yawned, rubbing his eyes as the two of them stepped onto the second-floor landing, “-are boring snobs. Obviously.”

Bruce chuckled, squeezing Dick’s hand. “I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

As far as Dick was concerned, a conformation wasn’t necessary. The extra time Bruce spent getting Dick ready for bed – dithering about his room as he secured the window at least three times and picked up some of the stuff Dick had laying around and chatted about some of his more interesting exploits as Batman, a couple of which Dick had already heard about before – was evidence enough. Dick thought it was a little funny, smiling tiredly from where he lay snuggled up in his blankets, but he didn’t mention it again.

He was kind of afraid that pointing it out would make Bruce leave sooner.

His eyelids beginning to grow heavy, he slowly drifted off wrapped up in the gentle hum of Bruce’s deep voice and the soft sounds of his movement. It was the first time in a long time, barring the occurrence of a nightmare and a stealthy trip to Bruce’s room, that Dick didn’t fall asleep to the encroaching pressure of silence.

For Halloween itself, Dick had made plans to meet up with a couple friends at one of their houses so they could go trick or treating as a group.

He went to school in the morning, bringing home a small goodie bag of candy from the teacher, along with, to his annoyance, a little bit of homework. He finished the homework first thing, at Alfred’s insistence, before going to hang out in kitchen until dinnertime. He wasn’t really allowed to help, but Alfred had told him that his company was always welcome.

Bruce had agreed to drop him off at his friend’s house after they ate, though it was probably going to be Alfred that would end up picking him up a bit later that night.

His friend, Will’s, neighborhood looked about as nice as Bruce’s, with a bunch of large buildings and neatly trimmed yards, but the houses were much closer together and the driveways weren’t nearly as dramatically long, something Dick noted with relief. When Bruce pulled up to the house, Lisa was already there, both her and Will waiting for him on the front porch.

“See you later, Bruce!” Dick said, opening his door and scrambling to get out of the car.

“Remember, Alfred will be by at about 9:30,” Bruce called after him. Dick waved back in indication that he’d heard him, but he was much more focused on his friends who were now standing up and beaconing him over.

Dick ran to meet them, a sudden rush of all the exhilaration that he’d missed out on last year hitting him full force as a wide smile spread across his face and a bubbling sensation filled up his chest.

Will was dressed as a vampire, the brown skin of his face smeared with white face paint, a pair of fake fangs stuck into his mouth, and a billowing cape tied around his neck. Lisa was a witch, her black curls sticking out from under a witch’s hat and fluffing out around her shoulders, glittering stars drawn onto her dark brown skin, and a robe with embroidery that matched the face paint draped around her shoulders.

Dick stopped in front of Lisa and she caught his hands, bouncing with excitement. Dick noted, with interest, that her parents had let her paint her nails purple.

“You guys ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Will said, his voice lisping from the vampire teeth. “You’re kind of late.” He walked over, linking arms with Dick and passing him a candy bar, saying, “From my parents,” by way of explanation.

“Your costume looks cute though,” Lisa said, dropping his hands so he could grab the candy from Will.

He ripped it open, taking a bite.

“Thanks,” Dick said to her with a smile, “so is yours.” To Will, he said, “Sorry about that, the streets were busier than Bruce expected.”

Will shrugged and began to tug the group of them down his walkway. “It’s okay. I think we’ll still be able to hit all of the good houses.”

It wasn’t long before any remnant of the sun, already setting when Dick had arrived, was gone. The moon took its place, a thin crescent in the sky; the stars, though more visible in this area of Gotham with its suburban sprawl, were sparse. Despite that, it wasn’t very hard to see with streetlamps placed at regular intervals of the sidewalk and a plethora of colorful fairy lights and glowing Halloween decorations lighting up the houses.

There were quite a few other kids already wandering the streets when Dick and his friends joined in on the trick-or-treating, their collective giggles and shouts filling up the air as they moved from house to house. Their arms still firmly linked, Dick and his friends ran along with them, coming up breathless to each new door, slowing only to snack on candy fished from their bags.

They were on their circuit back to Will’s house, Dick’s teeth feeling sugar-coated but that not stopping him from opening another sucker, when Dick told them about his leap off the staircase the other day, making sure to stress the fact that he only did it because of his experience with acrobatics and they really shouldn’t go home and try to do the same. They both seemed adequately impressed and, unlike Bruce, totally understood where he was coming from with his Superman suit explanation.

Their agreement that Bruce was blind and obviously not seeing sense gave Dick some much-needed validation and he threw his hands in the air with an emphatic “_Thank you_! I _told_ Bruce he was being too uptight, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

“Hey, Dick?” Will said, his brows furrowed in confusion, a look that he often seemed to shoot Dick for reasons that he’d never been able to discern. “Why do you call your dad ‘Bruce?’”

Well, not until _now_ anyway.

The question hit Dick like running straight into a brick wall; seemingly coming from out of nowhere and absolutely dumbfounding. The words, “Uh, because Bruce isn’t my dad?” spilled from his mouth without him even having to think about it.

Will, if anything, just looked even more confused. “What do you mean he’s not your dad?”

“He’s _not_ my dad,” Dick insisted, his mouth pulling down in a frown and his stomach churning. “He’s just my guardian, it’s not the same thing.”

“Yeah, Will,” Lisa piped up. “Someone’s guardian can be _anybody_, it doesn’t have to be their parent. A girl from my piano classes lives with her aunt and uncle.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I _know_ that. But Bruce isn’t Dick’s uncle or his grandpa or his cousin or anything like that. He just decided to take him in.” To Dick he added, “If he’s not some other kind family member, that basically makes him your dad, right?”

Dick yanked his arm out of Will’s hold, the movement so rough a bit of candy went scattering from his bag, and whirled on him, glaring. “_No_, it _doesn’t_!” He didn’t quite yell, but it was a near thing. “I told you, it’s not the same! I _had_ a dad! Bruce _isn’t_ him!”

Will and Lisa both stated at him, wide-eyed, and with a huff, he turned on his heal and stalked off up the street. Seconds later he could hear them running after him.

“Dick, I’m sorry!” Will called out.

He did genuinely sound sorry, but… Dick shook his head and kept walking, picking up his pace and dodging around kids in his way.

“Really, I didn’t know! I didn’t realize! I’m sorry!”

Dick walked the rest of the block, stopping just long enough to check both ways before dashing across the street, but, before he could, one of his hands was grabbed. He started to yank it back, only to notice that it was Lisa, not Will, who’d gotten hold of him. He relaxed, letting her hold on to him as they both ran across the street together.

“Will didn’t mean to make you mad,” Lisa said once they were safely on the other side. “He feels real bad about it.”

“He should have just listened to me in the first place,” Dick muttered, staring down at his shoes. Even as he kept stalking down the sidewalk, though, Dick could feel his anger dissipating, a deep sense of tiredness taking its place. Lisa squeezed his hand, an offer of support. Another few feet and, with a sigh, Dick was coming to a stop.

Will came up on his left, slow, hesitant, with another soft, “I’m really sorry.” He’d taken out his vampire teeth, the words now unimpeded by them, and was fiddling nervously with his cape.

Dick stared at him for a moment, then held out his hand. He didn’t tell Will that it was okay, because it wasn’t, but he let him grab on, an acceptance of his apology and indication that he was at least willing to let it go.

“So… what time were you guys getting picked up?” Will asked.

“Around 9:30,” Dick replied.

“Me too,” Lisa said.

“Cool, we’ll probably have time to watch a movie before you leave then.”

They stopped at a couple more houses on the way back to Will’s and once they arrived, they got settled in his living room. The movie they put on was mostly just background noise as they dumped out their candy bags and traded with each other. And then Lisa pulled a bottle of sparkly purple nail polish from her pocket, effectively capturing Dick’s attention.

“I took it from my mom’s bag after she finished doing my nails,” Lisa said, holding it out for him to inspect. “Want me to do yours?”

Dick’s gaze flicked between her and the bottle. “You know how?” he asked.

Lisa shrugged. “Kinda. My mom let me do a few of mine and I think they turned out okay.” She held out her hands to let him look.

Dick glanced them over, though he wasn’t actually sure what good or bad painted nails looked like, let alone how to make the distinction, then said, “Okay, sure. Paint my nails.”

Lisa grinned at him, clearly excited to be getting a chance to play around with the nail polish, and turned to Will. “What about you?” She shook the bottle at him. “Want your nails painted?”

Will wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “No thanks.”

By the time Alfred arrived to pick Dick up, his nails were a bright purple and he was back to smiling and laughing again with a careless ease, all remnants of his earlier stomachache gone. And if it twinged back up in the silence of his bedroom that night, it somehow almost seeming quieter with the sounds of the evening still echoing in his head, Dick ignored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to add, for clarification (because I know that since this fic is focused on Dick's first 3 Halloweens with Bruce, it might seem like Halloween itself is triggering his depression(?)), that Dick's issues with silence and loneliness would be an every day or most days thing. In the first chapter, Halloween itself did set him off a bit because he had an established way of celebrating with his parents, but he's not meant to have a significant relationship with/significant feelings towards the holiday beyond any other kid's excitement at dressing up and running around and getting free candy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scenes in this chapter were what I actually started writing this fic for so if it feels like more love was poured into them, that's because you're right. Also, not to spoil anything, but there's references to the previous fic "Sometimes failing to say no means a whole Bedazzled wardrobe" in this chapter.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy.

For his third Halloween, Dick got a _brilliant_ idea.

He was going to be spending it with Bruce. His having gotten permission to go out as Robin now had made going out on patrol and helping with tackling cases his priority. The parts of his life that could be scheduled around doing those things, were, and how he spent Halloween was one such non-essential. When it came right down to it, nothing could top the exhilaration of going out as Robin, even when most of the time he was relegated to observation duty.

Though Dick wasn’t going to be with friends like he was last year – a decision that both Lisa and Will had pressed him about, disappointed because it was their last year of elementary school and ‘there’s no telling if we’ll have any of the same classes next year’ and ‘what if that means it’s the last time we can spend Halloween together ever?’ concerns to which Dick had apologized, telling them that he really was just too busy – he was still going to be going trick-or-treating. The plan was that Bruce would take him out a little earlier in the day, leaving the two of them free to head out, suited up, by around 8:30 or 9:00.

Dick’s costume choices for the year were where his brilliance stepped in. He had three, one for Bruce’s Halloween party, the other two for Halloween night. The first was store bought, the others were special ordered from Alfred and kept top secret. If anyone asked, the store-bought costume was his _only _costume.

Even Bruce didn’t seem to realize that anything was up and the idea of having enough of the element of surprise to take him completely off guard had Dick practically bursting with excitement as the last days of October were slowly whittled away.

Alfred tried, usually in vain, to redirect Dick’s energy to things other than treating the manor like a jungle gym, but it was near impossible to do when the dropping temperature meant that he and Bruce wanted Dick to stay inside more and Dick was still considered too young to use the acrobatic equipment in the Batcave on his own. Unfortunately, that meant there was a veritable boom in the number of times Dick was caught climbing up or dangling from things he shouldn’t be.

It was part enjoyment of the challenge and a need to burn off energy and part protest of Bruce’s dumb rule that was keeping him from using the gymnastics equipment in the first place – a rule that Dick was pretty sure he was close to getting Bruce to rescind. His background mission to get his bedtime extended, on the other hand, was not going nearly as well. Bruce, to Dick’s annoyance, could be really stubborn when it came to things like Dick’s education – enforcing a bedtime so he wouldn’t be falling asleep in class, not letting him skip school unless he was sick, and, most inconvenient of all, insisting on a “no going on patrol until your homework is finished” policy.

Over the past couple days, however, when Dick wasn’t defiling the manor or arguing with Bruce about why he should to be allowed to stay up later, he was very involved in helping out with decorating for the Halloween party.

Both he and Bruce helped with getting boxes from the attic, but it was mostly Dick – under Alfred’s instruction – who set everything up; pulling out the Halloween themed dishes and bringing them into the kitchen to be cleaned, placing knickknacks on tables and shelves, draping deep red and black tablecloths over the snack tables set up in the ballroom, and – with the use of a proper ladder because Alfred and Bruce were boring – stringing up bright orange and purple fairy lights outside the front of the manor.

The end result looked pretty good, if he did say so himself.

The party itself ended up passing without incident, if a bit more smoothly than it had the year prior. Dick was less of a marvel to the people attending on account of his having been present at more social functions since the last Halloween party – Bruce’s way of “acclimating” Dick to them because “his attendance would start to be expected as he got older.”

Plus, a few people had actually brought kids Dick’s age with them this year, a slowly growing trend that Dick was all for – especially when it meant that Bruce let him stay up for a whole extra hour because “he was entertaining his new friends, Jessica and Amy and Heather.” Bruce had looked amused at his new means of bargaining for an extended bedtime, but he’d also acquiesced to it, so Dick counted it as a definite win and movement in his favor.

And as pleasant as the night had been, slipping between the loitering adults as he ran around with the girls and periodically crowding around the snack table and dancing together in the only way four little kids could at one time – a giggling rush of held hands, running in a circle until one of them tripped or they all got dizzy and needed to sit down – it really wasn’t until Halloween itself that Dick’s anticipation was finally absolved.

He’d been planning his secret Halloween costumes for months and he was _so ready_ to see the joke through to its completion.

See, the more social functions Dick attended, the more familiar he became with Bruce’s public persona.

Bruce’s perpetually bored, air-headed, flirtatious – which… gross, any time Dick accidentally caught Bruce chatting someone up he’d always pointedly fake a gag and speed on by – public persona.

And it was funny, like _super_ funny, if you knew how Bruce really was, to see him playing the role.

Dick teased Bruce about it a lot already, but then he’d realized that he could do _so much better_.

Dick’s first costume for the evening was simple. A nice suit, some Oxfords, and slicked back hair.

He came out of his room, all dressed up, to show Bruce, who was waiting for him on the landing.

Bruce looked him over, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You got a second costumes?” he asked. Then, “Are you… a lawyer?”

Dick, practically vibrating with excitement, fought his grin into the form of practiced, lazy smile, taking a sauntering step forward and holding out a hand as he did so, his other coming to rest on his hip. In a facsimile of an introduction, he said, “Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s resident billionaire businessman and part-time floozy,” Bruce, who until that moment had been winning the fight to keep a straight face, cracked with a startled, choking cough, his laughter causing Dick’s own face to break into a wide grin as tried to stifle his giggles so he could finish his introduction, “maybe you’ve heard of me?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to know that word, who _taught_ you that?” Bruce asked and Dick was pretty sure he would have been gaping if wasn’t still grinning.

Dick would have scoffed if he hadn’t been laughing so hard. “I’m practically 11, I know a _lot_ of words.”

Bruce made a disgruntled nose at that, but just shook his head, choosing not to comment. “Alright, alright,” he raised his eyebrows, “_Mr. Wayne_.” Bruce walked over, placing a hand on Dick’s back and getting the both of them moving towards the staircase. “How about introducing me as a ‘playboy’ instead, though? Has a bit more dignity to it.”

Dick just barely resisted the urge to tell Bruce that nothing about his socialite persona had all that much dignity, instead shrugging with a teasing, “I’ll think about it.”

Alfred was waiting for them near the foot of the stairs, a small, fond smile on his face. He inclined his head to Bruce, “Master Wayne,” and to Dick, “_Young_ Master Wayne.”

Bruce got a bit of an odd look on his face at that, which Dick found curious, but then Alfred was asking, Were the two of you ready to head out?” and Dick decided to push that mystery aside for another time.

He hopped off the last step, speeding over to Alfred to grab his candy bag from him. “Yeah! Thanks, Alfred, we’ll be back in a few!”

They went back to the same neighborhood Dick had trick-or-treated in the year before with his friends, Bruce parking the car on the side of the road and letting Dick out so he could hit however many houses he wanted and then make his way back to the car. Bruce, in the meantime, said he’d be working on business reports. Dick wrinkled his nose with a, “Gross. Try not to die of boredom without me,” and shut the car door.

Dick walked pretty much the same circuit as he had last year with Will and Lisa and even stopped by Will’s house, chatting with him for a bit before heading back to Bruce. By that point, the sun was starting to set and more kids were popping up on the sidewalk.

Dick got back to the car with sticky fingers and a sugar buzz mixing with the resurgence of his excitement as he got ever closer to Phase 2 of his ‘making fun of Bruce’ plans.

If Bruce noticed his restless energy, he didn’t seem to see anything off about it, just asking Dick if he’d had fun.

Back at the manor, the sun slipping the rest of the way from the sky and leaving Gotham in darkness, Bruce and Dick changed into their suits, with one major alteration.

For one night, and _one night only_, Dick had decided he wasn’t going to be ‘Robin, Boy Wonder’ he was going to be ‘The New and Improved Batman’ – the title was a bit of a work in progress, but he thought it got the point across.

To Dick’s delight, the instant Bruce saw him he choked for the second time that evening.

“_What_ are you wearing?” Bruce asked, hands on his hips and face hidden by his cowl, but Dick could easily imagine the incredulous look of his eyes.

Dick grinned at him, giving a twirl to really show the Batsuit off. It definitely wasn’t quite his style, but he’d had Alfred make a few minor changes so he’d feel at least a little bit more at home in it – namely the inside of the cape was yellow and instead of a bat symbol on his chest, he had his R, done in a gradient of red, yellow, and green. It wasn’t ideal, but he could totally make it work for the evening.

Plus, he’d pulled his Bedazzler out from where it’s been stowed away and finally realized his vision of a glittering Batsuit that Bruce hadn’t let him pursue.

“What do you mean ‘what am I wearing?’ It’s _obviously_ a Batsuit!” He placed his hands on his hips in an imitation of Bruce, puffing out his chest to really sell it. “Robin’s being Batman for Halloween.”

Bruce pressed his lips together, staring at Dick, who was still grinning away.

Bruce’s head then shot towards Alfred.

“He can’t go out like this,” Bruce said, clearly searching, rather desperately, for support.

“On the contrary, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, “I made the suit myself, though Master Dick added the… embellishments. It’s perfectly safe for him to go out in.”

“Yeah, Bruce! It’s perfectly safe for me to go out in!”

Bruce took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “And you see nothing _wrong_ with these… embellishments, Alfred?”

“Nothing more wrong than the vibrant shades of the young master’s typical suit. In fact, the rhinestones may be a step-up stealth-wise.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Okay. Okay, alright. Let’s go, Robin.”

Dick bounced up on the balls of his feet, ecstatic that Bruce was actually letting him go out in the costume.

He skipped over to Bruce’s side and as the two of them headed towards the Batmobile, he said, “So, like, now that you’ve see what the Batsuit _could’ve_ been if you’d’ve just let me finish working on it, have you reconsidered your stance? Because the Bedazzler is still in my room and I could-”

“No. No, Dick, I really- No, thank you.”

And at that, Dick threw back his head and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson: LET 👏 THE 👏 BATSUIT 👏 BE 👏 SPARKLY 👏 BRUCE 👏 YOU 👏 COWARD👏
> 
> Also: A four foot tall, glittering Batman beats you up on Halloween night, wyd?


End file.
